


Decrescendo

by pekori



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Come Swallowing, Crossdressing, Drabble Collection, Hand Jobs, Horny Teenagers, M/M, Oral Sex, Summer Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:15:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24899032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pekori/pseuds/pekori
Summary: A complete repost of my fills done for a theme table at centi_porn on LiveJournal. Each 100-word drabble is titled after its prompt. All of these were written between 2008-2011.They tell a steamy story of a bittersweet high school romance that blooms between these unlikely partners, from Kyouya's point of view.
Relationships: Ootori Kyouya/Suoh Tamaki
Kudos: 69





	1. Shiver

**Author's Note:**

> This has been lightly edited for formatting, grammar, and/or clarity, since its original posting.

That first meeting—that touch—meant it was all over for Kyouya. They were fifteen, strangers, and in the presence of the chairman and the girl, but it was there: that chill that nearly gave him away.

He remembered it now as it once more crept along his spine like a cat, paws hesitating on every vertebra in its ascent. He remembered it because sometimes Tamaki just went for _too long_ waiting for him to finish first, and that one fleeting moment of vulnerability and masked wantonness was the only thing that could ever get Kyouya off.

Every. single. time.


	2. Compromise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been lightly edited for formatting, grammar, and/or clarity, since its original posting.

Kyouya has always preferred the term "functional dichotomy." It is more professional—more meaningful—and never discredits the idea that they might get along one day.

Still, he is the third son, and has zero time for nonsense.

He agrees to forging a business relationship with the Suou heir to further his own name in Japan. The sex that follows is purely complementary, a matter of keeping enemies closer. There is no merit in the late-night rendezvous, the early morning fellatio, and _especially_ not the slow, glorious, afternoon...intimacy.

Still, a heart knows the most inappropriate times to skip beats.


	3. Tingle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been lightly edited for formatting, grammar, and/or clarity, since its original posting.

Kyouya gave a low, throaty moan, pushing backward into Tamaki's thrust. He could feel how close it was, a knowing tingling at the base of his spine. If only Tamaki would hit him a bit harder, a bit faster... if he could arch his hips in just the right way—

Tamaki stuttered out his name, tongue tripping over a breath that couldn't decide whether it wanted out or in. Kyouya let one out in acceptance—promptly choking on it when Tamaki gave one final jerk of his hips, causing Kyouya to come harder and better than he ever thought possible.


	4. Sweet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been lightly edited for formatting, grammar, and/or clarity, since its original posting.

Birthday or not, humiliation was humiliation, and Kyouya was mildly resentful of Tamaki's request. The dress flowed like curtains, his shoulders the curtain rod. The lace itched, the wig itched, and the cacophony of these shoes clomping on marble was deafening.

However, he had to admit fingers through silk panties were far more arousing than a hand digging clumsily into silk boxers. And maybe it was exhilarating when Tamaki slipped a sly hand up his skirt. Perhaps best of all, though, was the taste of sweet peach lip gloss mixing with the warm, salty taste of satisfaction in his mouth.


	5. Deep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been lightly edited for formatting, grammar, and/or clarity, since its original posting.

Secretly, silently, the pair discarded their clothes in the confines of Kyouya's bedroom. He knew this wasn't a risk they should be taking, that ears and eyes were everywhere, that it could cost him his life or worse.

By now, this hardly mattered, caution thrown by the wayside the moment he found himself balls-deep in Tamaki's mouth, fist locked between his teeth as if it could possibly stifle his unabashed urging. Tamaki seemed to prefer the moans, occasionally trying just a little harder to turn up the volume.

Never would Kyouya have imagined wearing a dress could have such merits.


	6. Blossom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been lightly edited for formatting, grammar, and/or clarity, since its original posting.

Tamaki never comes: he _blossoms_. The sheer ridiculousness of the sentiment drives Kyouya mad if only because it is so true. Perfect skin flushing, muscles shuddering-not-spasming, digits gripping the sheets just before a sudden rush of life springs forward from fingers and muscles alike. There is a certain stillness to the room (whichever it may be) in its wake, like a held breath, like the feeling one gets at the sight of Spring's first sakura falling, falling...until it touches ground and lays motionless but beautiful though its time has come and gone. And so, Kyouya never wishes for April.


	7. Sweat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been lightly edited for formatting, grammar, and/or clarity, since its original posting.

They always spent their summer vacation in the best of ways, sweltering together in ocean-side _chateaux_ , tangled in sheets drenched with sweat.

Panting. Kissing. Laughing.

Ignoring the persistent knocking of their friends, inviting them to come watch the sunset. Dreading the inevitable return of school. Drowning in air heavy with musk and humidity.

Suffocating, _choking_ , in and on each other. Loving every desperate moment of it. Coaxing just a few more seconds of life out of what couldn't be more overcome with fatigue.

And, every so often, reveling in the silence between each smirk they traded across the dinner table.


	8. Tongue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been lightly edited for formatting, grammar, and/or clarity, since its original posting.

The sounds burbling from Tamaki's throat were guttural and obscene; so unbecoming of such a princely heir. All the magic that tongue could weave in daylight—obliterated under cover of night by hoarse, pleading whispers and the criminal sighs that punctuated them.

He would never admit it, but these nights were Kyouya's favorites. No longer forced to control by proxy, _he_ could leave the prince begging and _he_ could stop if, when, and how he wanted.

Only he never did want, and Tamaki always got his way in the end, simply because Kyouya will forever fall victim to that mouth.


	9. Gaze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been lightly edited for formatting, grammar, and/or clarity, since its original posting.

Half-lidded and dreamy, Tamaki's expectant ocean gaze stays obediently trained on Kyouya, while all Kyouya can think is _Stop, stop, stop. You're only meant to look at me that way from above or below. Never beside. Never outside the confines of bedclothes and secrecy._ It's the only thing that can derail Kyouya, cause his palms to grease the pages with anxiety, smearing credits into debits.

Just so Tamaki can give that satyr's laugh and reach a disgustingly calm hand under the table to rub reassuringly, having learned long ago that running ink means Kyouya will stiffen from the slightest touch.


	10. Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This has been lightly edited for formatting, grammar, and/or clarity, since its original posting.

Buddha never did imagine a more perfect pair of hands than one bestowed upon this unlikely candidate. The fingers danced over skin, slipped carelessly through hair, tiptoeing like ten tiny puppets over and under every inch as if they had written this play themselves.

 _They had_ , Kyouya knew, and his moans called unabashedly for the encore. He simply could not be left in such tremendously agonizing anticipation and suspense.

Tamaki knew his audience as well as his characters and effortlessly spun a final act, eager to please though not truly finished playing, not yet ready to give away the ending.


	11. Melt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been lightly edited for formatting, grammar, and/or clarity, since its original posting.

It happened slowly.

The time was afternoon, long after lunch but not yet supper, and their breathing was staccato and irregular. His blue eyes were shut, but smiling, face flushed, hair mussed and skin glistening like icicles at dusk—sometimes looking at Tamaki was like staring into the sun.

Then he spoke of tomorrow, of false families and playing house, building snow forts and huddling beneath kotatsu to escape the winter—of a maiden and her stubbornness.

It happened slowly, trickling down with a _drip-drip-drip_ like an icicle at dawn.

All Kyouya wished was for it to freeze once more.


	12. Smooth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been lightly edited for formatting, grammar, and/or clarity, since its original posting.

Hands that would never know a day's hard labor, that would remain pristine, soft, and unmarred, evidently no longer interested Tamaki. The familiar panting, the foreign sounds dripping from his tongue—Kyouya absorbed every second of these moments he had left like this. He could feel them ticking away, gently, slowly, gracefully. Time would not wait, even for all the money and power in the world, instead falling slowly through those untainted hands as smoothly as sand through an hourglass. But there was no starting over. There was only that bitterness in his mouth that had once been so sweet.


	13. Button

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been lightly edited for formatting, grammar, and/or clarity, since its original posting.

Slick fingers fumbled repeatedly on the same button, so Kyouya slid forward and easily finished fastening Tamaki's pants. He nodded acknowledgment of the grateful smile before excusing himself. The burn of bile was back and he would not let Tamaki catch it this time. He heaved all that he could from his empty stomach, then went to the sink for some cool water.

This was too hard. After all of those years... No merits. No justice. Nothing at all but a name and fortune he no longer wanted. He would trade it all to be in place of that girl.


	14. Give

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been lightly edited for formatting, grammar, and/or clarity, since its original posting.

Years gone and nothing left to show for it but an empty shell of a person that had only just barely existed to begin with. What hadn't he given? What hadn't he sacrificed? Pride, chastity, and all those walls he so carefully crafted—the prince waltzed in the front gates and burned down his castle, empty promises scattered to every wind, seeds that would never sprout.

Kyouya spilt his own seed heavily into the hand that awaited it, watching as that silver tongue removed all evidence of the contract. This kingdom was no longer his, but had it ever been?


	15. Without

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been lightly edited for formatting, grammar, and/or clarity, since its original posting.

Sweating, shaking, panting, moaning, cursing. Smooth hands, closed eyes, and the smell of summer wafting in through the window, the sea breeze bringing the scent of nostalgia to mix with the heavy musk of lust. Hitched breath, a broken name, and a bittersweet feeling of fulfillment crumpled and thrown into the garbage.

Kyouya falls back onto the pillow, breathless and drained, his arm falling over his face to hide his shame. He feels the way his hair sticks to his neck, to his face, to the soft cotton sham. It will never be the same without Tamaki. Could never be.


End file.
